Inevitable
by Kadi219
Summary: Raydor/Flynn - Post Season 2. Denial and subterfuge, it's all bound to come to a head at some point. Sharon finally learns how Andy's family views her, and it finally tips them over the edge.


Inevitable

by Kadi

Rated: T

Disclaimer: It isn't my sandbox, I just like the toys!

**A/N:** I was listening to Van Halen's "Why Can't This Be Love" on the way to work, and this begged to be written. Enjoy!

* * *

_It was hot inside the pavilion__. T__he day__'__s temperature had been moderate and kind to them, but the press of bodies, so many in a semi-enclosed space had pushed the temperature higher. The breeze flowing in off the Pacific was simply too good to resist, and so he stepped through the open doors, and out onto the deck. The pavilion itself was oceanside, and as he leaned against the wooden railing, he could hear the gentle ebb and flow of the waves as they crashed against the pylons beneath. The breeze brought with it the scent of clean, salt air, and washed over him, cooling his skin. His gaze swept the seascape, and the waves glinting silver in the moon's glow over head, rolling ever inward. Music filtering out from behind him joined the sound of the ocean, and after a moment, he turned and let his gaze wander back indoors. He lifted the drink in his hand and sipped, while letting himself reflect on the gathering and the purpose for it. _

_Another wedding. _

_He shook his head, let himself scan the crowd looking for his date. It didn't take long for his eyes to land on her, only seconds. As though he'd already known where to look, like some odd innate sense. A smile tugged at his mouth. Even standing in a group of younger women she was the most lovely, certainly the most radiant. There were several yards and easily a few dozen moving bodies between them, but their eyes met and he watched her head tilt. She swept a lock of hair back and her fingers lingered against her neck. His eyes narrowed, darkened with heat. He saw the answering challenge in her gaze._

_They were standing in the middle of a wedding, and all he could think of was getting her out of there. He wondered exactly what the etiquette was for leaving early in a situation like this. Then a small smirk curved the corner of his mouth upward. The last time they were at something like this, he didn't want it to end. Funny, it all started with a wedding._

- MCMCMCMCMC-

Another cupboard slammed. Andy winced. He shook his head where he stood at the coffee maker, quietly waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, and praying that it would happen soon. He had a feeling that the quicker he was out of the break room, the better it would be. For him. Most definitely for him. It was just another symptom of his own horrible luck that he would end up walking in, at the exact moment, that the subject of his frayed nerves would decide that she needed a cup of tea. Andy sighed quietly, and then he regretted it. The cup was set on the counter, a little harder than was necessary. He could almost hear her teeth gnashing together. He remembered, quite clearly now, what it felt like to be on the receiving end of her ire, and now he almost wished that he'd listened to his partner. _Almost_.

Andy made the mistake of glancing up and caught her glaring at him. His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," he said simply, and probably for the thousandth time.

"I believe I asked you to _not_ talk to me," Sharon stated, slowly and with great emphasis on each word. She slanted another displeased glare his direction and opened another cupboard, finally managing to locate the box of tea she was looking for.

He felt the knot in his gut twist a little tighter and looked away again. Okay, maybe he didn't really know what this felt like. He had irritated her before, but Andy couldn't recall ever having actually _pissed_ Sharon Raydor off. Not quite like this. Worse than making her angry, he was fairly certain the anger was a result of the fact that he might have even hurt her feelings, and that he couldn't really stand. Not that he wanted her unhappy with him at all, but one was definitely worse than the other. He sighed again, and let his head hang. He slanted a look at her, not wanting to be caught. "That is going to be a little difficult, don't you think?"

"Doesn't seem difficult to me," she gritted. "You think of opening your mouth and you do not, unless you're speaking to the part where thought is involved, and then I can see where you'd be confused." She dropped the tea bag into her cup and poured the scalding water over it.

Andy felt his own ire pricking. She could be downright nasty when provoked. He supposed that he'd provoked her, but it was just an honest mistake. One that he'd apologized for, repeatedly. "I forgot what a real bitch you could be when you set your mind to it," he stated, and wished he hadn't, but damnit she did things to his temper. He had forgotten about that too. Two years of working together, rather than against one another, and he completely let slip his mind that she could drive him utterly bat-shit. Andy placed his own cup down on the counter and turned, facing her. He could feel the heat rising up his neck, along with his temper. "You know, I said I was sorry. I admitted it was my fault, and I get it. I do. Why on earth would you want anyone to ever think that you would _lower_ yourself to being with someone like me. Your point is made, believe me, I've got it loud and clear lady, so any time you want to stop with the abject indignity, go right ahead. If anyone should be pissed off about this, it should be me. No, wait, I keep forgetting. You're _married_," he added air quotes, just to get his sarcasm across.

"You lied to me," she shot back, ignoring his dig at her marriage. "I asked you specifically to tell me what was going on, and why you were so tied up in knots about the ballet, and you _lied_. You looked me in the eye and you told me it was nothing. I really don't see how you allowing your family to believe that we are anything more than friends is just _nothing_, because yes, as you so eloquently pointed out, I _am_ married. More than that, I trusted you. I stupidly believed that you were someone that could be counted on, and I should have just listened to years of experience telling me otherwise. Why would you be any different now than you were then." He had irritated her over the years, lord only knew, but never like this. She'd asked him to stay away, to not talk to her, mainly because she hadn't thought she could hold her tongue, and rightly so. Especially if the present conversation was anything to go by, although, conversation was really too loose a term for what was happening between them currently. "Which part amused you more, Andy, embarrassing me, or the laughs you've had behind my back about it? Two years and I really believed we were behind this petty crap, and you know, you're right. I shouldn't be angry with you. It was my fault. I should have known better. I just never believed that you would go so far as to include your daughter, not when you proclaim to be trying so hard to earn back her trust, so imagine my surprise when I get an email, inviting the two of us to dinner, _together_, because she would really like to get to know her father's _girlfriend_ better."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Andy took a step forward. His brows drew together in a dark glower. He knew about the email, that was what had set off this entire cascade of nastiness between them. He hadn't told her about the whole misunderstanding with his family because he didn't want to embarrass her, and because it was his fault. He didn't want to drag her in to his insanity, not if he could help it. It was a mess of his own making. He was going to clean it up. He was _trying_ to clean it up. The email had completely derailed everything. Now it seemed to all be spiraling completely out of control, attempts at a salvage operation might be completely useless. That didn't stop the dark spiral of his temper, or the way it spiked, irritation pushing him closer. He towered over her, heat and annoyance radiating off him. "You really think-" Andy cut himself off. He shook his head. He didn't know if it angered him more, or hurt. "I understand you're pissed at me, Sharon. You've got every right to be, but I wasn't screwing with you. It was stupid, I _know _it was stupid. That's why I didn't tell you. I thought I handled it, I really did. I told them, after the ballet, that we were just friends. They didn't believe me. I didn't see any reason to tell you when it was dealt with, obviously, my mistake. If I thought, for even a minute, that Nicole would drag you in to that insanity, I would have said something. But here's the thing, I've apologized. I messed up. I admit it. Par for the course, but what I don't get is why you are so hell bent on running it into the ground. Like your life is oh so _wonderful_."

For just a moment, the space of a heartbeat, she was prepared to let it go. She would forgive him, forget it, and move on. Her eyes snapped up and flashed, burning with bright green fury. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're _married_," He said, making air quotes again. "That's your whole argument against anyone thinking we're sleeping together. Try selling it to someone who hasn't seen the train wreck, baby. Your marriage is over, and the only one who doesn't seem capable of grasping that concept is you." Andy laughed, the harsh sound rang through the break room, it echoed bitterly in the small room. "Do you really think the man who sweeps into town for a couple of nights, once a year, is really going to care if someone _thought_ you were sleeping around? I never pegged you for naive, and I sure as hell never pegged you for stupid. Jack was sleeping around before he left, do you think being gone's changed anything?" The minute the words were out of his mouth, Andy wished he could take them back. He saw the barb hit, and he watched it draw blood. He realized, then, that he hadn't really wanted to hurt her. He hadn't wanted any of this. He wanted to go back, all the way back, his daughter's wedding would suffice. He wanted the laughing, smiling woman that was dancing in his arms. Or the ballet, that would be far enough. To the woman who had relaxed the moment she was in his car, away from all the fear and the drama, and the turmoil of the Rusty situation. He wanted the carefree smile and the soft, shining eyes. He didn't want this. He didn't want the dullness that seeped through her, or the way she staggered back, air escaping her lungs in a thin, shallow breath. Andy ran a hand through his hair. "Damnit. Sharon. I didn't mean that-"

"Don't." When he stepped toward her again, she turned away, back to the counter. She placed her hands against the edge and leaned there, back slightly hunched. If he thought that she hadn't known that Jack was sleeping around before, during, and since their separation, then he was mistaken. It had been a long time since anyone had thrown it in her face so callously, however. If anyone was aware of Jackson Raydor's shortcomings, it was his wife. Most _especially_ his wife. Sharon tipped her head back and closed her eyes, tightly, against the unexpected wave of pain. She exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. It didn't help. The ache in her throat burned, like cheap liquor. There were so many things that she could say, so many things that she could throw back at him in that moment, hurt him in kind. Sharon pressed her lips together instead and waited for the rapid beating of her heart to slow.

His temper faded while he watched her, and he was left with the slightly sick, shaky feeling that always followed that initial adrenaline rush. His hands itched, but he knew that if he touched her now, she would deck him. Or worse. Thing was, he'd deserve whatever she tossed at him. Andy ran a hand through his hair again and blew out a breath. His shoulders slumped. "That was low, I shouldn't—" She held up a hand, indicating that she wasn't ready to hear it, likely never would be. Andy walked over and leaned back against the counter near her, but space enough that he wasn't crowding her, at least not physically.

"You're the last person I expected that from," Sharon finally said, in a voice so quiet it was scarcely audible at all. Whatever their differences, or the argument, knowing his history as she did, Sharon never thought that Andy would use hers against her. Maybe she had forgotten just how vile his temper could be when properly riled.

"I know," he said quietly. "Sharon, I didn't mean it." Andy spoke quietly, gently now. The damage was done, likely irreparable. Still, it didn't stop him. "Not like that. The bastard never deserved you, and whatever his failures, they were never yours." He drew her gaze, and when he realized her eyes were moist he felt like kicking himself. It went against his better judgement at the moment, she was wounded and that meant likely dangerous, but he touched her. His hand circled her arm, thumb gentle against the soft skin just above her watch on the inside of her wrist. "I _am_ sorry," he said again, this time he meant it.

Her hand covered his, and for a moment it seemed as though she might remove it from her, but instead she grasped it. She leaned in to his side, until their shoulders were just barely touching. "Yes." It was all she said, for a moment, it was all that she _could_ say. "I know, Andy. So I am."

Bolstered, even a little, he continued. He used the same, soft, rumbling voice. "I didn't tell you because I knew that it was ridiculous. The very idea was so outside this world I was shocked anyone thought it at all. Then I realized that they didn't know you, otherwise no one would ever question you and I together, because they'd know it wasn't possible. They couldn't know how far out of my league you really are, or that you've been hurt so badly that you cling to a memory rather than chancing hurt again. They didn't know that I'd never put you in that position, because I value you too much. It was stupid, it wasn't important. _You_ are." Her wide-eyed look told him that she was far too surprised to be upset, so he continued, even when he felt the tremor that ran through her. "I asked you to the ballet, not because of the lie, but because I like who _I_ am when I'm with you. You make it possible for anyone to think that I might not be such a huge screw up after all, and maybe that's the lie." He bent his head low, voice growing softer. "I told Nicole that we weren't together. She didn't believe me. They think we're being discreet because of our jobs, and because you're married. Separated, but married. I'm sorry that you were embarrassed, and I'm sorry that you were hurt."

It wasn't what she expected. As far as apologies went, it definitely got an A plus. Sharon blinked, a bit owlishly at him. Her eyes stung, moisture clouding her vision. She looked away, quickly, and pressed her lips into a thin line. When he tried to withdraw, misreading her, she held tightly to his hand. She looked up at him again and a single tear escaped to track it's way down the curve of her cheek. "I'm the one that should be sorry," she said thickly. "I was taking it out on you, and it wasn't fair. It was ridiculous, and the minute you explained the first time, I understood that. I asked you to stay away, Andy, because I knew I wasn't being rational. I can't be, not with you, and that's becoming a problem." She gestured around the empty break room with her other hand. "Obviously. I have to apologize because this should _never_ have happened. I should _never _have allowed it to. This is really no one's fault but mine. I've let…" She trailed off and looked away, shaking her head. She couldn't speak beyond the ache in her throat. She screwed her eyes shut and tilted her head toward him when his hand stroked her arm. When she spoke again her voice was rasping with emotion. "It isn't fair to you, that I can't be objective anymore. It hit too close to home," she admitted. "With you I can almost imagine what it might have been like. You did what he _won__'__t._ Not because he _can__'__t_, but because he just _won__'__t_. So really, if anyone should be apologizing here, it should be me, because I wasn't really mad at you. I was mad at myself. Excuse me." She pulled away from him and headed quickly toward the door. If she didn't leave now, she would embarrass herself further.

Andy let her go. He was tempted to stop her, but he realized that he'd helped shatter her enough for one day. Now he understood why his partner had asked him to stay away. Jackson Raydor had damaged her, and while she had a fairly strong outer shell, there were cracks in it as well. Badly as he felt, he couldn't stop the slightly giddy feeling that also filled him. She couldn't be rational or objective with him? It didn't bode well that she equated him to the life she could have had, but at least he knew now that not everything was completely one-sided between them. It was still a rather large mess, however, and one he wasn't quite certain how to untangle. Or if he even should. One thing he knew, though. He was never going to piss her off again. Not intentionally, at the very least.

Sharon retreated to her office, where she remained for most of what was left of the day. She kept the blinds drawn and tried to lose herself in paperwork. Unfortunately, there was too little of it to do a proper job of keeping her mind occupied. She did have to leave her office, it simply wasn't feasible that she remain there all day. If she happened to ignore Andy, or stay far from him, well, she hoped that no one noticed. At the first opportunity which presented itself, Sharon left the office

She drove home and locked herself away in her room. She had greeted Rusty, but by now they were long since used to each others moods. If she went to her room with a glass and a bottle of wine and didn't resurface again, then he didn't fret over it. He was aware that it simply meant she'd had a long day and needed the quiet. That was exactly what she had done. She locked her door and ran a bath. She soaked for hours, with music playing low, and indulged in almost a half of bottle of her favorite Chardonnay. It wasn't all that she indulged in. For a night she let herself wallow in regret and sorrow. She poured it out and let it flow over her. The argument with Andy had brought it all to the surface, and she was still mildly irritated with him, but she admitted to herself that it was possible that just maybe she was denying it for too long. The visit from Jack the previous summer had rattled her, but she hadn't really dealt with it. Instead, she kept on going as she always had, with just one little difference. She began spending more time with Andy. That wasn't fair to him.

In the end, she really had no one but herself to blame for this situation.

There was only one thing to do after that. Stay away from him and try to regain her objectivity. She retreated behind a mask of professionalism. Sharon spoke only to Andy Flynn when it was necessary, and only as it pertained to work. She stopped relying on him so heavily and began focusing her attention on other members of her squad. There were no more quick lunches or quiet conversations. She withdrew completely and that was simply the way that it needed to be.

With only one problem. Andy was watching her with the wounded, boyish expression that he always wore when he knew that he had been particularly bad. He respected the distance that she placed between them, and only tried once or twice in the first days to breach the chasm that she had opened. When she was immovable, he stopped. Sharon was thankful for that, but knew that she couldn't be swayed.

If the team was aware that something had happened between them, it wasn't commented upon. Not in front of her person, although she caught the speculative looks exchanged between Tao and Sanchez when she chose one of them to accompany her into the interview room or autopsy. Lieutenant Provenza seemed startled if he was the chosen partner of the day, but quietly kept his own counsel on the matter. She suspected the reason for that, in the dark looks he shot at his partner when they thought she wasn't watching. Andy would shrug and shake his head, and really it was unfortunate that his desk was located just outside her office. She had to pass him each and every time she entered or left.

What hurt the most was that she stopped using his name. It was always his rank, when she addressed him at all. He missed the way that it flowed off her tongue, the slow inflection, and the way she carefully pronounced each syllable. He missed her smile more than anything. At least the one she typically directed at him.

April became a cold, unbearable month.

Sharon was talking to Rusty about his plans for summer when she realized just how long it had been since she'd gone away for any reason. She typically spent a week each summer up the coast, and then of course the holidays were spent in Park City. Two years had passed since either trip was possible. There were other alternatives too, places she went when she needed to get away, and it just wasn't feasible. Now that Rusty was free of his protection detail she started to wonder about that again. A few days, a long weekend. The situation with Andy became untenable, and the farther she withdrew from him, the harder it was to regain the objectivity that she was seeking. She let herself get too close. The damage might be irreparable. She had to try.

At eighteen Rusty was more than capable of staying on his own for a weekend, but as she made plans to slip away from the city, she asked Lieutenant Provenza to keep an eye on him. She suspected that for all his bluster, Rusty wasn't ready to be on his own yet. That was why he didn't want to live in the dorm when he started college in the fall, although she had given him the option.

The Lieutenant assured her that Rusty would be fine. It was hard to let go after all the turmoil of the winter months, but she believed him. He seemed to want to say more, but did not. Sharon was grateful for that.

With Rusty well taken care of, she drove north. Gavin had a beach house on a small, private strip of beach just outside of Monterey, and Sharon had a key. She'd used it as a hideaway more than once, and a quick call to her old friend to make sure that it was not currently in use was all that it took to secure it for the weekend. As Gavin said, it had been too long since she asked. She couldn't agree more. She rarely told anyone _where _she was going, although her children knew of its location, and now so did Rusty.

It was a considerable drive, even taking the 101 up the coast, but that was part of the charm. Once she left the city and the Pacific Coast Highway opened up, she could begin to relax. All the tension could flow away, so that she could enjoy her break. Sharon hadn't taken any personal time in two years, and witness protection did not count, even if she did love that boy as if he were her own. She took two days, and left early on a Thursday morning. By late that afternoon she reached the beach house, and finally, almost felt as if she could breathe again.

It was a lovely old place. A single level, with two large bedrooms, spread out on a rocky outcropping overlooking the beach. From the deck, there was a winding, wooden staircase which led down to the beach. Although she had free range of the house whenever she used it, Sharon always stayed in the second bedroom, it was simply her favorite. It gave her the best view of the ocean.

The house was stocked and open when she arrived, Gavin had someone locally that took care of that for him, and he never failed to do the same for her. He really was the very best, and she reminded herself that she would need to be a better friend when she got back to Los Angeles. The situation with Rusty had left her little time for much beyond work and keeping him safe. She hadn't spent much time with Gavin at all, aside from the odd lunch or dinner. She felt terribly guilty about that, but they'd been friends too long for it to effect them much. She would make the extra effort anyway, and made a mental note to arrange one of their brunch and shopping sessions just as soon as she could.

In the fridge, Sharon found a bottle of her favorite Moscato, chilling and ready for her. He really was a dear.

After getting her bags out of the car, she changed into a loose, flowing, gauzy blouse and a pair of shorts and walked down to the beach. There, she dropped into one of the old adirondack chairs near an even older fire pit, dug her feet into the sand, and tipped her face to the sun. All the while, she tried to figure out just how she had let her life get so far out of hand.

On Friday morning, Andy Flynn decided he hated the break room. He was once again in a position to watch the coffee maker percolate, and thought that maybe, it was time he gave up coffee. Or maybe just give up the break room. Something had to go.

While he stood there, he could hear the echoes of their argument and all the brutal things they'd said to each other. Along with everything they hadn't said, and all the unresolved issues in between. If he'd known she was just going to stop talking to him he wouldn't let her walk away. He'd go back, stop her from leaving, and tell her that the reason he'd waited so long to tell his family the truth about them was because he liked their version better.

It might not change anything, but at least she would know.

He hung his head and sighed. He had driven her to silence, driven her to sadness, and driven her away. Sharon needed time off as much as anyone, but the timing couldn't be worse. Not that they were busy, quite the opposite. Her timing in that area was, as usual, completely impeccable. No, it was that she left everything completely unhinged between them. Or maybe that was the point, he was the only one unhinged. She seemed to know exactly where she stood where he was concerned. Far, far away.

"You're pathetic." Louis Provenza had watched his partner, sulking, from where he stood at the entrance to the break room. He skulked in and sat his empty coffee mug on the counter near the coffee maker with a loud thud. He glared at Flynn, eyes dark and cheeks ruddy. "I warned you. I told you to leave it be, but the one thing you can't seem to do is listen to reason when you're chasing a skirt. Did you bump your head?" He threw his hands up. "What did you think was going to happen? She's _married_ for crying out loud! And she's the _Captain_."

Andy didn't even have the energy to argue with him. He nodded, a bit dully, and reached for the pot once it finished brewing. "Yeah," he said. "I know."

There was something in his expression, and it was more than just the pouting he'd been doing since the two of them stopped being so sickeningly friendly with one another. Provenza frowned. "What did you do," he asked, figuring that if he got it out he could finally get over it.

Flynn shrugged. "What didn't I do? I should have listened," He said. "You were right. It was a mistake."

There was a catch, a gruffer than usual inflection that spoke of something far more worrisome than being downtrodden about a breakup, or whatever it was that happened between them. Provenza rolled his eyes. "What happened?"

"She found out about the whole misunderstanding about her and me," he waved a hand through the air. "Nicole made a comment about wanting to get to know my _girlfriend_ better, and she sort of… well, you know."

Provenza closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I told you to tell them. This is exactly—"

"I did," Andy snapped. "I told them we were friends. I told them there was nothing going on, and they didn't believe me. I didn't tell _her_ and that's where I went wrong. We got into it, okay. We both said some things, some pretty… just some things, alright."

If there was one thing he knew, it was his partner's temper. Provenza sighed heavily and prayed for patience. "You were an ass."

"Yep." Andy stirred sugar into his coffee. "I was an ass. Afterward, I apologized, she apologized, and that was that."

"Why don't I believe that?" His eyes narrowed.

"Let it go, alright? It's done, it's over. You got your wish, there is absolutely _nothing_ going on between Sharon and I."

"Which is exactly as it should be," he shook his finger at him. "This was exactly what I was hoping to avoid. If you would listen, for even a minute. Maybe, just maybe you would—"

"I got it." Andy glared at him. "I've been through all this with Sharon, I don't need to go through it with you too. Trust me, I've got it. It's never going to happen. It can't happen. I'm really not in the mood for your gloating." He walked away, leaving the break room.

Provenza watched him go with a frown. He'd barely worked up a good hint of irritation, much less a fit of temper. It was hardly a reaction at all. He poured coffee into his cup and considered that maybe his partner was a bigger moron than he ever believed. The kind that wanted something he couldn't have, and worse than that, was in love with it too. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. Now he had two lovesick fools to deal with. Why could they never listen to him. Instead, they made a mess of everything and he was left to clean it up. Typical, just typical.

Andy glanced up an hour later when a piece of paper landed on his desk, on top of the report that he was working on. "What's this?" He took it and unfolded the small note. An address was written in a familiar scrawl.

"Go." Provenza waved him toward the door. "You're not doing me any good, and I'm tired of all your moping." He pointed at the paper, reached out and tapped it. "Fix it," he ordered. "Whatever you broke, go fix it. Don't come back until you do." The older man bent low, "Or by god, Flynn, Raydor will be the least of your worries. Now _go_."

He stared at the address for several moments, then realized what it was. Of course, if Provenza was keeping an eye on Rusty for the weekend, he would know exactly where Sharon had gone. Why he was giving it to him, Andy couldn't say. "What makes you think it can be fixed," he asked.

"Maybe it can't," he shrugged. "How do you know if you don't try? Got to be better than sitting around here, annoying me with all of your pouting."

Andy smirked. "You know, it would serve you right if—"

"No," he held up hand. "No details. Just go, before I change my mind. Get out of here. If you leave now, you can get there before it gets too late."

Flynn glanced at his watch. It was a five hour drive to Monterey, but he could get there just after dark, if traffic cooperated. He wavered on it. He didn't imagine that Sharon would appreciate his dropping in on her mini-vacation. She had gone to get away from him, after all. Although, that did particularly bother him. Maybe his parter _was_ right. Whatever was broken between them couldn't be fixed while she was five hours away. Even if they couldn't be together, they had to repair the rift which had formed. Otherwise, how could they ever hope to work together? Already their work was being effected.

"Yeah, okay," Andy decided. He stood up and grabbed his jacket, along with his keys and phone. "I'll uh…" He wouldn't call, he knew Provenza wouldn't want the details, no matter what went down. "Thanks."

"God don't thank me," the old man groused. "I'm probably going to regret this."

"Nah." Andy smirked. "We're grown ups, we can figure something out." Even if they only became mild acquaintances, they'd at least make it so it wasn't so unbearable for everyone else around them.

After leaving the office, Andy swung by his apartment and tossed some items into a duffel. Even if she did kick him out on his ass, he'd spend the night in a motel before driving home. Although he was apprehensive about the confrontation to come, Andy felt lighter as he pointed his car up the 101 and headed north from LA. It couldn't go too badly, he doubted very seriously that she would shoot him while she was out of her own jurisdiction.

He practiced what he'd say in the car on the way up. It was a five hour drive, after all, and that gave him plenty of time to perfect his speech. Somewhere between Paso Robles and Monterey a storm blew in off the ocean and rained hell on him the rest of the way. It was still raining when he arrived. Lightening split the sky, followed by the angry rumble of thunder. Well, at least if she shot him, no one would hear it, he decided.

The thick sheets of rain made it harder to find the beach house, but he eventually pulled his car onto a gravel drive alongside a familiar silver sedan. Lights burned inside the house, casting a warm glow into the night. Andy made a dash for it, up the front deck and beneath the overhang. He swept water from his hair as he knocked. No answer came, but he knew that she was there. Andy pushed the door open and poked his head inside. "Sharon?"

She loved a good rainstorm. She watched the clouds build up over the water and make their way inland while she walked along the shoreline. She got too caught up in her own thoughts however, and didn't turn back soon enough. The rain caught her, soaking her through just as she reached the stairs which led up to the deck. Sharon ran the length, but by the time she reached the back door, her oversized sweater was sodden and clinging, as were her khaki shorts. Her hair was completely limp, plastered against her face and neck.

She crashed through the back door in her dash to get inside, and right into a warm, hard body. Sharon drew back, startled, and swept her hair back from her face with one hand while the other prepared to fend off whoever had decided to break in while she was out. She was greeted, instead, with a familiar pair of brown eyes. Her stomach dropped and clenched at the same time. She'd been thinking of him for most of the day, and for just a moment, wondered if he was just a product of her overactive imagination.

"Andy."

He wondered if he'd ever hear his name on her lips again. The breathless way with which she said it was nearly more than he could take. He caught her, when she scrambled inside, his hands at her waist had kept them both from tumbling. Now he could feel the heat of her, seeping through from the drenched sweater. It clung to every inch of her. His hands gripped her sides, and for just a moment he was torn.

"Sharon."

He tugged her forward, intent on drawing her away from the door, into the dry warmth of the beach house, but he managed only to pull her against him instead. When his head bent, hers lifted. He didn't intend to kiss her, but his mouth moved over hers, and rather than push him away her hand curled behind his neck and drug him closer. Touching her was simply too much. His hands moved into the thick, sodden weight of her hair and tipped her head back. Her lips were soft and pliant, even when he demanded more. Even while he plundered the sweet depths of her mouth, he reflected that this was not what he'd planned. But her hands curled into the front of his shirt and she pushed up onto the balls of her bare feet and pressed herself against the length of him. The sharp, plaintive moan that was wrought from her rang right through him, and further ignited the heat that was curling in his gut.

He'd planned a speech. But the words went right out of his head. Instead, his teeth drug across her bottom lip. When her nails scoured his shoulders, he rumbled a quiet, "Need you," instead of the many important words he so carefully rehearsed.

"Yes." Her voice was thick, ragged. His touch burned, and every caress of his tongue against her mouth, her jaw or her neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. When his hands slid down her back to grip her thighs and lift her, she drew a sharp breath and wound her arms around his neck, and folded her legs around his hips. "Left," She muttered, when he turned and started away from the door. In the back of her mind she was aware that she had come here to get away from him, away from the aching cold of the absence forced upon them both. Now she could think of nothing else but the heat, of his hands and his mouth, and the absolute thrill of _finally_ having them on her. She'd denied that, until he touched her, she refused to acknowledge it was exactly what she wanted.

Want she did. Need was also a very definitive concept. While the storm raged over head, she gave in to the storm raging within. When she landed on the bed, she drew him with her. She had driven up the coast to find a way to untangle all the complications in her life. To find her balance. It seemed rather apropos that she would only find it tangled with the largest complication she was currently facing.

The bedding ended up a tangled mess in the floor, and their clothes were lost somewhere in the torrent. A single sheet survived the onslaught. Andy swept it out of his way as his hand traced the length of one long, well shaped leg. He loved her legs. She laughed when he said as much. He sat propped against the headboard, watching her while she lay at the opposite end of the bed. His hand cupped her bent knee and slid slowly along her thigh while he watched her eyes. They crinkled at the corners, and then her gaze shifted, away from him. It grew introspective. Andy suppressed a sigh while her smile slowly faded. The initial heat and urgency of the moment had faded. They were left sated but the underlying issue remained.

Andy pressed his lips against her knee. His hand wrapped around her thigh and he rested his chin against the bent limb. "Hm?"

Sharon's eyes found him again. "I was trying to find a way to make my life less complicated, not complicate it further," she said quietly. "And now I don't know what to do."

She was twisting herself knots again, and he knew exactly why. His hand continued to explore the soft skin of her thigh in a gentle, undemanding caress that was meant to be comforting. "Sharon, it doesn't have to mean anything." He would walk away from her, he wouldn't forget, and it would be hard as hell to ignore, but he would do it. He never meant this to be hard for either of them, he never meant for it at all, it just snuck up on him. Andy always thought her to be a beautiful woman, smart, infuriating and stubborn, but always beautiful. Then at some point, he saw beyond that, and suddenly it wasn't simple attraction he felt for her, it was so much more.

She gazed back at him and slowly shook her head. There was a sad smile playing at her lips. "We both know that isn't going to work. It means something, Andy, and that's the problem. It means too much."

He watched her press a hand against her forehead and reached for her other. Their fingers twined loosely together. He could say that he shouldn't have come, but it was inevitable, this thing between them. It was either going to come to this, or much more hurt and regret in the long run. "You're married," he stated simply, understanding the obstacle at the heart of the problem.

"Yes," she whispered. Sharon looked upward, toward the ceiling and sighed. "Joke's on me."

Andy winced. "Sharon, I never meant-"

"I know," She smiled at him. "Andy, you didn't say anything I haven't thought a thousand times or more. My marriage is..." She shook her head. She couldn't explain it. "Not really a marriage, I know. It hasn't been for a very long time. It just... _is_." Sharon looked away again, miserably aware of the wall that her marriage presented, and precipice that she stood on at present. "I've known Jack since we were kids," she spoke quietly, and a small smile appeared. "Our fathers were partners in the same law firm. Campbell, Raydor and Associates. The name has changed now, my brother David runs it. Our families vacationed together, we went to mass together. Our mothers attended all the same social circles. The boys, Jack and his brother, they went to prep school. They weren't home much during the school year. During the summers, we tormented each other." Sharon laughed, lost for a moment in the memory. "It was actually my sister Theresa and Alan, Jack's brother, that everyone believed would end up together. Then the summer I turned sixteen, my grandmother took me to Europe with her. I didn't see the boys that year, they'd already gone back to school when I got back. The next year, well... Jack and Alan came home from school, and suddenly I'd changed."

"Ah." Andy chuckled. He could just imagine how. "You were a girl." She rarely spoke of her life outside of her children or her career. She talked of friends and things she'd done, but they'd never discussed her marriage or any of the history surrounding it. Understanding that it was something she needed, he prompted her gently, but his lips brushed her knee again.

"Yes." Her eyes sparkled. "Suddenly I wasn't the skinny little freckled brat that our fathers forced them to keep an eye on. I liked to climb trees," she explained. "It gave my father fits."

"I can't imagine," he replied, grinning at the thought. He was trying to picture the ever proper Sharon Raydor shimmying up a tree and just couldn't.

"No, it's true. I did." Her fingers traced idly along his arm, where it curled around her leg. "Theresa and Alan couldn't stand each other, but suddenly they were playing chaperone. Actually, now that I think about it, they still can't stand each other." She chuckled a bit at that. "Jack's mother passed away while we were in college, we both went to Berkley. By the time we'd graduated, my father had taken a court appointment here in LA-"

"Wait," Andy lifted his head slightly. "Judge Mason Campbell is your father?" Her smile and nod had his eyes rolling. "That explains so much."

Sharon's eyes glittered. "Not a fan?" Her father could be very stern in his courtroom in his day. One simply did not tangle with Judge Campbell.

Andy snorted. "As a rook, and later in Robbery-Homicide, I used to hate hearing we'd gotten Old man Campbell. He would eat our asses. I showed up in court hung over one time, actually, I think I was still drunk now that I think about it. I still have this slight ringing in my ear..."

She laughed. "Yes, that sounds like him. I'll have to ask him about that," she teased. "I know the man remembers everything..." Her parents were aging, but still very much alive and active. "Jack and I both intended on going to law school," she continued. "But it was expected that we'd get married. Of course we did. We set up house, and I got a job. We had a deal. I would support us while Jack went to law school, and then once he was established it would be my turn. How unbelievably ordinary is that?" Sharon shook her head now. "It didn't quite work out that way. I was still in patrol then; I'd do a twelve hour shift, and then come home and help Jack study. Or help Jack write a brief, or quiz Jack for an exam. I was, of course, the perfectly supportive wife."

"Of course." He lay his cheek against her leg and continued to stroke her thigh. He would expect no less. The woman didn't deal in half measures, once she was in, she was committed. Maybe that should be his answer to the question of _them_. "What happened? You obviously didn't go to law school."

"Hm." She snorted. "No, I didn't. I had babies instead. Ricky was born before Jack sat the Bar. Babies are expensive, and I wanted to stay home with Ricky for a while. It was only natural, so Jack took a job _tending_ bar while he _studied_ for the bar." She rolled her eyes. "The pay and the tips were good, and it saw us through for a few months, until I went back to work. I came back to a position in Vice. Jack took the bar, and got a job at a small firm downtown. It wasn't what he'd wanted, but it was a decent job. Certainly not the big dreams we had starting out. After I had Kate, money was tight. He took a second job, at a bar, working nights, and I felt guilty that he was working two jobs to support all of us so I went right back to work after my maternity leave was over. Jack got another job, but he missed his old friends down at Malone's, so he'd go down a couple of nights a week. Then I realized he was going several nights. Then some nights he wouldn't come home at all." Sharon shrugged, it was a story Andy would know only too well, the effect of alcoholism on a family. "When Jack lost his job because he was staying too drunk to _do_ his job, I gave him an ultimatum. Dry out or get out. I had two kids and it was a little embarrassing to have a colleague from patrol call me up because they had Jack in holding on a DWI. He stopped drinking, dried out, and we were good for a while." She looked away, pain and regret were tinging her almost wistful expression. "Andy, when we were good, we were _really_ good. It wasn't all bad. We had a few really great years. I made the move into Internal Affairs during that time, and it wasn't until we almost lost the house that I realized that Jack had given up drinking for gambling. I found out that he'd been sleeping around. I knew that he was while he was drinking, I didn't realize that continued all the time. We fought. Things were bad for a while. I expected him to give it up, and why should he stop having all his fun and stay home with his crying kids and crabby wife. So Jack left."

"You filed for separation," he said quietly, knowing much of the rest of the story. At least what they'd witnessed from afar, working with and around her.

"Not immediately," Sharon murmured quietly. "I was having a hard time untangling our finances, struggling to hang on to the house, and the car, and..." She waved a hand through the air and rolled her eyes. "It was Gavin's idea. He was still in the City Attorney's office, but we'd been friends for a few years. He said that if I wasn't going to file for divorce, it was the only other way I could protect myself, and the kids financially, and legally. So I did. Jack came home a few times over the years..."

"Never stayed long," Andy commented.

"No," she sighed. "No, he never did. We weren't quite fun enough for him. There wasn't much thrill to little league and dance class. Not much excitement at PTA or car pool. I thought about it, so many times over the years. Just... cutting myself free from all of that, me and the kids. There was always something that stopped me. It just wasn't done in my family, although my parents never actually said it. There were the trust funds that Jack's dad set up for the kids. If we'd divorced, he would have controlling interest, and he'd hurt them enough already. It's out of both of our hands now, they have them." Sharon's fingers traced the wide contour of his hand, the long fingers. "I think I just became so used to it all, that after a while, it didn't really seem odd to me. Or maybe I just felt a little responsible for him. Jack shows up when he wants something from me, usually money." She snorted. "_Always_ money, or a place to crash for a couple of nights while he's in town. He never stays long, because he never gets what he wants. Least of all me." She shut that down years ago.

"I didn't ask," Andy said succinctly. "You don't owe me any explanations about—"

"I know. You've never asked me about any of it. Maybe you should have." Sharon sat up, she held the sheet against her chest and leaned close, kissing him gently.

His hand moved into the still damp, curling mass of her hair. "Would you have answered?"

"Probably not," she murmured. "It's a complicated mess, Andy." Her hand cupped his cheek. "Why are you here?" It wasn't a complaint, but she couldn't imagine that he would have followed her on a whim.

"We needed to talk," he shrugged. "We can't go on like we were, it's effecting us, the team, and everything we do. I had a speech all worked out, I just can't seem to remember it anymore." His thumb swept across her bottom lip. "I was going to offer to transfer," he admitted quietly. "Hollywood Division has an opening. Maybe with someone keeping an eye on them, they wouldn't screw up as much as they do. It would get me out of the building, out of your cases, and out of your way."

"No." Sharon leaned her forehead against his, eyes closed. As much as she had tried to close him out, the thought of losing him completely caused a hard knot to tighten around her heart, stealing her breath. "Andy, you can't—"

"It might be the right thing to do," he said gently. "Sharon, my intention wasn't to get you in to bed tonight. It was to try and fix what's broken, and failing that, leave you in peace."

"It's clearly _not_ the right thing to do," she argued. "I have been struggling without you, and if you leave the squad, I'm right back where I started two years ago with all of them hating me."

"And I don't know if I can see you, love you, and not have you," Andy said, a little more harshly than he'd intended.

Her eyes snapped up, wide, and a bit bewildered. "I…" She shook her head, thinking she couldn't have heard him right. "_Andy_." Sharon's head bowed, and her eyes closed. She had made more of a mess of it than she thought.

"Yeah. Hell of a thing." He kissed the top of her head. "I can screw it up with the best of them. I had to fall in love with the one woman who just isn't free to love me back."

"It doesn't mean she doesn't," she whispered quietly. The small admission cost her. She looked up at him, through her lashes. Her eyes were wet. "Don't transfer." She wasn't above pleading. Not now. "Stay."

Andy leaned his head against hers. He screwed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. He could still smell the light scent of her perfume, mixed with his cologne, and the traces of her shampoo that the rain hadn't completely swept away. "If I stay, I'm going to want you," he said plainly.

"Yes." She curled a hand around his arm, the other gripped his shoulder. "I'm not very good at this. I didn't have to be. Most of my relationships have been very… _simple_," she admitted. "Even if _this_," she gestured between them, "continues, it may not be easy. I'm not easy. You know that. I'm bossy and demanding, and I've been alone for a very long time. I like having things _my_ way."

"No," Andy drawled sarcastically. He flashed a crooked grin at her. "You? I don't believe it." He pushed her back, until they were sprawled diagonally across the bed, Andy half draped over her. His weight rested on one elbow, while his other hand pushed her hair away from her face. "Tell me something, Sharon. When you married Jack, did you think you'd be laying _here_ now, some thirty-odd years later, having this discussion? Did you think that you'd end up raising your kids on your own, or that your husband would use you, hurt you, and come and go as if you were nothing more than a convenience?" Before she could speak, he pressed a finger against her lips. "My point is, do we ever _know_ what's going to happen? In any relationship? Did you foresee Rusty being as important to you as he is, no, it was meant to be a temporary situation. Why borrow trouble? I borrow enough of it for all of us," he waggled his brows at her.

"That's true," She chuckled. "Although, I have to admit, you do usually have a considerable amount of help."

"Please, sweetheart, let's not talk about my partner while we're naked." Andy made a face.

Sharon snickered. "Agreed." She lifted her head and kissed him, lips soft, and the kiss far more languid than any they'd shared earlier. "I come with a lot of baggage, Andy," she spoke quietly against his mouth. "It may be more than you're willing to—"

"Hello, my name is Andy, and I'm an alcoholic." He gave her a pointed look. "You want to talk about baggage?"

"Point taken." It wasn't a competition, but she supposed that her considerably ordinary failure of a marriage was a drop in the ocean by comparison. He'd lived the same life, on the opposite side of that coin. Only he'd changed. He did everything that Jack wouldn't do. He was repairing his relationship with his kids, while Jack couldn't be bothered to acknowledge that he _had_ kids. "You're everything that he isn't, don't you worry that I'm using you?"

"Maybe I like the way that you use me," he mumbled against her jaw, where his lips had moved to. He lifted his head and gazed down at her. "It's too late, you can't talk me out of loving you, but if you don't want me, you should tell me now. I'll leave. This will be it. I'll stay, I won't transfer, we'll see how things go. I'm not going to use that as a means of coercing you into something you really do _not_ want, that's not why I brought it up." His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb traced the curve of her cheek. "I don't want to be just another former drunk, taking advantage, hurting you in the long run."

"Not wanting you isn't the issue," she said thickly. "Not loving you isn't a problem. I could love you, Andy. So easily. It's me. It's just… _me_." Sharon exhaled a slow, shuddering breath.

"It was a safety net," he said, realizing just how true that was when he read the uncertainty in her gaze. "Staying married was all about duty and religion at first, but later it was a means of protecting yourself. You didn't have to get involved because underneath it all, you were always a _married woman_."

"Yes," she whispered. "There's never really been a reason to change any of it, not until recently." Sharon studied his face. She loved the way the dim lighting in the room caught the gold flecks in his eyes and made them dance. She could get lost in those eyes. They were always such deep pools of emotion, anger, lust. Love. "I've been thinking about it more often since he was here the last time. I realized I was allowing us to fall into old habits with Rusty. I didn't like that I was repeating the same mistakes over again. Then came you. I wasn't expecting you." A smile curved her lips. "Certainly not given the number of times we've argued in the past. You didn't really like me before."

"I was pulling your pigtails." He smirked. "You're hot when you're irritated." He kissed the tip of her chin. "It's so fun to annoy you. You get all prissy, then you walk away, and _that_ is always a treat."

"You are so obscene," she laughed quietly.

"No, sweetheart, obscene would be telling you that I like watching you walk _toward_ me too," his brows bobbed again, playfully. As if to punctuate his point, his head dropped and he nudged the sheet down. He nuzzled the top of her cleavage.

"_Andy_." She pushed his head away with a low, throaty chuckle.

His dark eyes were dancing when he looked down at her again. Andy's lips brushed hers in a light caress. When he drew back he propped his head in his hand. "What do _you_ want, Sharon? What I want is pretty obvious, I've made no secret of it. What is it that _you_ need."

Her teeth drew across her bottom lip. She looked away for several long moments. That was a question she had been asking herself for quite some time. It wasn't that easy. Or was it? Could it be as simple as he made it seem. When Sharon looked up at him again, she found that his gaze was steady, ever unwavering. She reached up and drew her fingers across his jaw, beckoning him closer. "You, just you." This time when his head descended, she met him. Her arm curled around his neck and she drew him to her.

Everything might change once they returned to Los Angeles, but here, in this haven, it was as simple as opening her heart to a wealth of possibilities.

- MCMCMCMCMC—

_He found her in the crowd, drawn back inside by his own need to remain close by. More than a year had passed since that weekend in Monterey. That weekend was a haven for them. Reality turned out to be much different, and they'd had some stops and starts along the way. They were both set in their ways, and there was the matter of her marital status. The divorce took longer, and was much harder emotionally than anticipated. It was never an easy process, and no matter the length of their separation it was still emotionally devastating for all involved, Sharon and her children. There was no relief when it was over, only the sad closing of a door on a very long history. _

_It had its impact on them, they had taken a break during the darkest days of the divorce proceedings, but once it was over, Andy had taken her back to Monterey. Free to explore a relationship of their own, life began to move forward again. The mistakes and issues which arose between them were their own, there was no longer a specter of the past dividing them. Reconciling their personal relationship with their professional was not simple. Andy could be hot-tempered, and Sharon did not take her work home with her whenever possible. They simply had to find a balance._

_Andy thought they'd done okay in that regard._

_He curled an arm around her waist and leaned into her back. He dropped a kiss onto her shoulder and steered her gently away from the group of ladies demanding her attention. "Think we can leave now?"_

_Sharon chuckled quietly. "It's got my vote." She grinned when she realized he was maneuvering her toward the door. "I'm not entirely sure that it would be proper."_

_"Sure it is." His hand settled against her hip. "We'll slip right out, they'll never even notice."_

_"Think so, hm?" She stopped and turned in to him. Her head tipped back, her eyes were alight in the twinkling overhead lights. A brighter shade of green than usual._

_"Yeah, especially if you don't stop now." His eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. He kept his arms around her and walked her slowly backward. "If you stop, they'll notice. Don't make eye contact."_

_She pressed her lips together, but the corners twitched. "It's good in theory, honey, but I think they might just catch on if you and I disappear."_

_"Eventually." He smirked. "But it's expected. We came, we put in an appearance. It was good. Now let's go."_

"Andy."

"Sharon."

_Her eyes narrowed. "Supposing for just a moment that I allow you to convince me-"_

_"Allow?" His brows arched. "It's already gone to your head." Andy grinned playfully, even when her eyes rolled. She had been his wife for all of two hours and thirty-six minutes._

_She heaved a sigh that was feigned exasperation. "Supposing that you find some way of convincing me," she said, pointedly correcting her previous verbiage, "what exactly is in it for me?"_

_"I have the keys to the Monterey house, your bags are packed, there's a car waiting outside and we don't have to be back for days." He bent, let his lips brush her ear._ "Days."

_"Well," she drawled at length. "Why didn't you say so to begin with."_

_Andy's eyes narrowed, playfully. "Woman." He turned her and gave her a light shove toward the door. When they reached the deck outside, his hand landed lightly across her backside. The look she shot him over her shoulder made him grin. By the time they reached Monterey he was going to be in so many shades of trouble, he knew, but she was still his favorite person to get riled. Well, that was okay, he'd wait until he got there to tell her that he'd bought the Monterey House. Their haven was now solely theirs. That should make a suitable wedding present, he thought. It should get him out of trouble._

_One day, when they retired, he'd take her there and stay._

_~FIN_


End file.
